tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6620962733391955072024-03-04T22:01:43.939-08:00Mecker Möller Poetry - PoesíaCollection of Poems from 1991 to 2009.
Spanish and English Poetry.
Colección de Poemas en Inglés y Español.Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.comBlogger29125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-90272966524082694292014-07-27T10:41:00.000-07:002014-07-27T10:41:00.461-07:00World and Eye at FATVillage - Poetry, Arts and performances with Antiheroes project<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
With some of the artist of Antiheroes Project, Jose Dominguez, Sergio Mora, Ika Santamaria. <a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMKTJtw85OUdnTrxR9QtGTT77pKq8wIanLuD4etUnKJ0trRmmcMwG0-R40UKgjsKjr4MWyfaByhFOWAbmQvyDwsIrPkGa6D0uAVhZIpED0M6dpDi2NtXNbMbeGglAkCNzKMitgqIV_z6A/s1600/collageahp.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMKTJtw85OUdnTrxR9QtGTT77pKq8wIanLuD4etUnKJ0trRmmcMwG0-R40UKgjsKjr4MWyfaByhFOWAbmQvyDwsIrPkGa6D0uAVhZIpED0M6dpDi2NtXNbMbeGglAkCNzKMitgqIV_z6A/s1600/collageahp.jpg" height="320" width="320" /></a></div>
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH8lgIah6ou8eNq7ICKHxv-pFvptaV621VxqNWXZSgLfEyhzFAgc2WTsQZaQ7GW22lih7fgJT2t-Yvj_9hx5HrIN-usIgSFgeweO3T3nEV32UE8XZiIjCxXPNZsj34lKkZ0PG2ucLjqpo/s1600/mw.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH8lgIah6ou8eNq7ICKHxv-pFvptaV621VxqNWXZSgLfEyhzFAgc2WTsQZaQ7GW22lih7fgJT2t-Yvj_9hx5HrIN-usIgSFgeweO3T3nEV32UE8XZiIjCxXPNZsj34lKkZ0PG2ucLjqpo/s1600/mw.jpg" height="320" width="241" /></a> with Marie Whitman Poet, Singer, Writer and Performer</div>
<br />Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-40545415637487427572013-06-17T09:44:00.003-07:002013-06-17T09:44:52.791-07:00CRISALIDA<br />
<i><span style="color: purple;">Abrigándose </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">con el negro de la noche,</span></i><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">transforma </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">el alma quebrantada, </span></i><br />
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<i><span style="color: purple;">y las carne de su cuerpo,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">en transparente </span></i><i><span style="color: purple;">crisálida </span></i><i><span style="color: purple;">, </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">deseando que el filo del dolor</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">no le encuentre.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Se esconde </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">en callejones de silencios,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">donde la lluvia gélida</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">hiere los hombros,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">y lloran en unísono </span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">con la tierra,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">y con los cielos.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">En la bruma se vislumbran</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">las arrugas de sus manos</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">ocultándole el rostro,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">y su piel encostrada de</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">milagros rotos.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Los clamores de los vientres,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">se funden</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">con las grietas de sus pies.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">El compás de la madrugada,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">diluye los ecos</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">de risas infantiles</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">danzando en una noche</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">de solsticio,</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">mientras </span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: purple;">la frazada de lo incierto</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">le cobija sus huesos.</span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="color: purple;">Junio 14, 2013</span></i></div>
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Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-24358726657044283362013-06-17T09:28:00.005-07:002013-06-17T09:30:17.775-07:00CHRYSALIS- ENGLISH<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;"><br /></span>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3809">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3803" style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif;">she covers herself </i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3765" style="color: purple; font-family: 'bookman old style', 'new york', times, serif; font-style: italic;">
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3764">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3811" style="background-color: #fce5cd;">with the blackness of the night,</i><br />
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3763">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3813"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3812" style="background-color: #fce5cd;">transforming her</span></i><br />
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3769">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3815" style="background-color: #fce5cd;">broken soul, </i><br />
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3770">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3817" style="background-color: #fce5cd;">and the flesh of her body,</i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3772">
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3771" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;"><i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3819"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3818" style="color: purple;">into a transparent </span></i><i><span style="color: purple;">chrysalis</span></i><i><span style="color: purple;">, </span></i></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3773" style="text-align: left;">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3822"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3821"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3820" style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, sans-serif;">wishing the sharpness of the pain </span></span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3774" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3864"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3863" style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">will not find her</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3775" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3823" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">she hides </span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3824" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">in alleys of silence</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3825" style="text-align: left;">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3828"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3827"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3826" style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, sans-serif;">while the freezing rain</span></span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3799" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3830"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3829" style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">falls hurting her shoulders, </span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3831" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">and they cry in unison </span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3832" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">with the earth,</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3833" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">and the heavens.</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3796" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3834" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">Looming in the mist</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3838" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3837">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3836"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3835" style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">one can see the wrinkles of her hands</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3839">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_10779"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_10778" style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">covering her face,</span></i></div>
</div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3840" style="text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple; font-family: Georgia, Times New Roman, sans-serif;">and her skin crusted with</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3841" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_10777"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_10776" style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">broken miracles.</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3842" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3843" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_10775"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_10774" style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">The cries of the wombs</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3844" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">melt</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3845" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3859"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3858" style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">with the cracks of her feet.</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3797" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3846" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">The compass of dawn,</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3798" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_10773"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_10772" style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">dilute the echoes</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3847" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">of children's laughter</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3857" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3856"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_3855" style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">dancing in a solstice night</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_10766" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<span style="background-color: #fce5cd;"><i><span style="color: purple;">while </span></i><br /><i><span style="color: purple;">the blanket of uncertainty</span></i></span></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_10767" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_10771"><span id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_10770" style="background-color: #fce5cd; color: purple;">shelters her bones.</span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_10767" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: purple;"><br /></span></i></div>
<div id="yui_3_7_2_1_1371485749167_10767" style="color: #29303b; font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', sans-serif; text-align: left;">
<i><span style="background-color: white; color: purple;"><br /></span></i></div>
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Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-80781279905319093402009-07-20T04:34:00.000-07:002009-08-06T14:42:45.803-07:00English- UNSPOKEN<div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqoZxLTZ7Z70SuCWBXF7V3VtQH3PwLJObTPa0_uEbi-gUOMOaW0dCcs1Ybyyuv9SM1uxw2L2asdcCss-f_NVHCLXHgxZkojSEbmDqpUn8vEfKWDNlUVXjojWHFYfyIbKMIRNDdwFAWKWE/s1600-h/Scotland+Northen+Ireland+and+Republic+322.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 185px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqoZxLTZ7Z70SuCWBXF7V3VtQH3PwLJObTPa0_uEbi-gUOMOaW0dCcs1Ybyyuv9SM1uxw2L2asdcCss-f_NVHCLXHgxZkojSEbmDqpUn8vEfKWDNlUVXjojWHFYfyIbKMIRNDdwFAWKWE/s320/Scotland+Northen+Ireland+and+Republic+322.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5360505174487157938" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic;">Photo: Mecker M</span><span style="font-style: italic;" class="email">öller</span></span></div><span style="font-family:Comic Sans MS;"><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br />And she had words<br />inside her head,</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br />she wanted to say..</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br />and feelings inside her heart,</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br />she wanted to hold on to.</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br /><br />So she interrogated the silence </span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br />from the dark of the night,</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br />trying to find answers<br /></span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">while he sleeps by her side. </span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br /><br />Oh, hollow words in hollow dreams,</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br />devouring hopes and ripping the soul. </span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br />Oh, </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1248089711_0">blind eyes</span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"> neglecting sunrises</span><br /><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">of a </span><span style="border-bottom: 1px dashed rgb(0, 102, 204); background: transparent none repeat scroll 0% 0%; cursor: pointer; -moz-background-clip: -moz-initial; -moz-background-origin: -moz-initial; -moz-background-inline-policy: -moz-initial; font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);" class="yshortcuts" id="lw_1248089711_1">distant horizon</span><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);">.</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br /><br />But a whisper broke at dawn:</span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br />one day, </span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br />maybe, </span> <span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(51, 0, 51);"><br />maybe not.<br /><br /></span><br />June 20th, 2009</span><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div><input id="gwProxy" type="hidden"><!--Session data--><input onclick="jsCall();" id="jsProxy" type="hidden"><div id="refHTML"></div>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-82861212739931845692009-02-20T19:20:00.000-08:002009-02-27T12:21:52.336-08:00English-ENCOUNTER<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5iTF-IH16WuxeyVF-Mmw8kSMg9jDm3n_4JrtfmymffWvRyqUGimazFDr_DI2NJKmmHZRggGd7ZX3PghqHNqOC3Pj52wxnX3mnVbbmbx7IfvadlnAjBzWDc4uYuI5tMK_6QY85Mk1aEhk/s1600-h/meckercliffpoem.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305095370616866610" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 253px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5iTF-IH16WuxeyVF-Mmw8kSMg9jDm3n_4JrtfmymffWvRyqUGimazFDr_DI2NJKmmHZRggGd7ZX3PghqHNqOC3Pj52wxnX3mnVbbmbx7IfvadlnAjBzWDc4uYuI5tMK_6QY85Mk1aEhk/s320/meckercliffpoem.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,51,102); FONT-STYLE: italic"></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;color:#660000;"><em>Photo: Claudio Lovo</em></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,51,102); FONT-STYLE: italic"></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,51,102); FONT-STYLE: italic"></span></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"><span style="COLOR: rgb(102,51,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">D.G.</span><br /></div><div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"></div><p><em><span style="color:#663366;">Take me to a place<br />where I can let my soul breathe<br />the air of your blue ocean,<br />and catch a piece of sky<br />to hide it in my pocket.<br /><br />To grab the mist of a mountain<br />and let it dance in the palm of my hand,<br />while your smile carries me to a moment<br />where the moonlight shines on our shoulders.<br /><br />Take me back to that cliff<br />where I can throw<br />away all the fears and ghosts<br />exhausting my back,<br />so I become free again to extend my arms<br />and fly to own horizons at sunset.<br /><br />Take me to that secret corner of the night<br />to steal the harmony of a song,<br />so I can play it during the silent moments<br />of my heart.<br /><br />Take me gently<br />to a quiet encounter,<br />where I can treasure<br />the touch of your hands at dawn<br />creating fires in my cold skin,<br />and where we intertwine our bodies<br />into roads that will take us<br />to discover new sensations…<br />sounds,<br />sighs,<br />and essences.<br /><br />Take me back -in the distance-<br />to those warm moments<br />where I could believe again<br />that I belong in your arms.</span></em><br /></p><p>January, 2009 </p>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-91312956862656392222009-02-20T16:56:00.000-08:002009-02-27T20:59:38.471-08:00ICAROS<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOaKQqkrqzsXNlZcQ27jfTDQw-Tfl9Jvb9qyEdsmFX5NChD0fU9rVnKud9MRmSTL02xeRUoUeM-3B1yjuqbT4rkkYv37apPb1MrEaFihHBbRvNd6XZAgqzFmVUGqpInBcIj0JfCNaoysU/s1600-h/IMG_1547.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305091762997302034" style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; width: 200px; cursor: pointer; height: 150px;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOaKQqkrqzsXNlZcQ27jfTDQw-Tfl9Jvb9qyEdsmFX5NChD0fU9rVnKud9MRmSTL02xeRUoUeM-3B1yjuqbT4rkkYv37apPb1MrEaFihHBbRvNd6XZAgqzFmVUGqpInBcIj0JfCNaoysU/s200/IMG_1547.JPG" border="0" /></a><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">A J.G.<br /><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">La vida éste espejo redondo,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">girando con su eje en la tierra</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">y enfocando al cielo.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">La veo sobria </span></span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">al pasar por mi ventana,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">camina sobre pedregosos</span></span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">senderos de preguntas</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">sin respuestas.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">En su reflejo,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">nos veo como ícaros </span></span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">ondeando en una tarde</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">de vientos agitados.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"></span></span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">Nos observo,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">mi eslpada sobre la grama,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">la vista en el celeste.</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"></span></span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);"><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">Desde el arrecife se oye</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">el canto monótono del mar,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">-Triste.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">Hace una abismal soledad<br />de sentires sin vos,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">se me va desgarrando la garganta,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">!Se me han prohibido los milagros!.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">Es como quitarme la piel</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">y el nombre.</span><br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">Mi otra cara de la luna,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">Mi café y mi cobre,</span><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">Mi Concepción y mi Maderas*.</span><br /><br /><br />Julio 2001<br /></span></em><br /><span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" >*Concepción y Maderas son dos volcanes en la isla de Ometepe dentro de el lago de Nicaragua.*Ometepe: del nathuált, dos circulos de tierra juntos.</span>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-89171680359019429042009-02-20T16:55:00.001-08:002009-03-01T08:09:31.819-08:00HISTORIAS<div style="text-align: right;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1vKE770Bzn038cF-_eU_E1-UCMW3ZqTfJpGFbR5NUAvc-URxNqvdgj4NFKLb672qR7UUD9WSAKCnw0GXnR6woc3OSUIoTvJh309UBFBg-8XB4GcNv6PsWMTf6N9_sdzCdjOqu2beLqo/s1600-h/cl8.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 214px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEio1vKE770Bzn038cF-_eU_E1-UCMW3ZqTfJpGFbR5NUAvc-URxNqvdgj4NFKLb672qR7UUD9WSAKCnw0GXnR6woc3OSUIoTvJh309UBFBg-8XB4GcNv6PsWMTf6N9_sdzCdjOqu2beLqo/s320/cl8.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5308251959246707394" border="0" /></a><span style="font-style: italic; color: rgb(102, 0, 0);font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" >Photo: Claudio Lovo</span><br /></div><div align="right"><em></em><br /><div align="left"><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">Esta noche ha caído<br />y mis pensamientos </span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">te siguen acariciando<br />en el silencio.<br /><br /></span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"></span></em> </div><div align="left"><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">¿Estarás acaso<br />con los ojos abiertos<br />tendido en la noche,<br />arrancándole respuestas<br />al aire cálido que rebosa </span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">sobre el manto oscuro?.<br /><br />¿Estarás queriendo tocarme<br />o quizas olvidarme<br />a travez de esta paredes del tiempo?.<br /><br />¿Andarás buscando una baratija de<br />adorno para el momento?<br />Esas que nos desagobian </span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">del dolor de habernos<br />quitado la piel de la esperanza.<br /><br />Las horas de esta noche interminable<br />se inscrutan en mi piel, </span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">haciendo grietas que atestiguan </span></em></div><div align="left"><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">el paso del calendario.<br /><br />¿A quién le contarás nuestra historia?<br />¿A una buena amiga?<br />…¿A un hijo?<br />¿O un viejo en un asilo<br />al final de los días?<br /></span></em><br />1998 </div></div>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-62884629505761831512009-02-20T16:54:00.001-08:002009-02-27T12:25:01.096-08:00A VOS<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjo_qrCW9wXcfbjxkLYqAFHKVxtQRst-P6j5_iK5F3MLrLKZEqq1aCxZ4uWeUspt2H4hrFk7yaC_N0iONDpuS_TsS9D-mjpeTJxxFPbMKom92XxmSpOmhDCflEnvKpV9jub1qXchWKzIY/s1600-h/cl2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307560925556712674" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjo_qrCW9wXcfbjxkLYqAFHKVxtQRst-P6j5_iK5F3MLrLKZEqq1aCxZ4uWeUspt2H4hrFk7yaC_N0iONDpuS_TsS9D-mjpeTJxxFPbMKom92XxmSpOmhDCflEnvKpV9jub1qXchWKzIY/s320/cl2.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><div align="right"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjRLfUi_cmalNj5MVls_FiKBlDZi0uZ6Gd_E4JpiZdCfolOctF67v6tEQ6D-pijWbPuRDuj2JACZdzetxwJmI4A7KlQGZvrGKyaDiIs3Ogvwxj3B0vaQRJlgfH4a4vYNdYx2QSvRUtxukA/s1600-h/cl2.jpg"></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;color:#660000;"><em>Photo: Claudio Lovo</em></span><br /><br /></div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh6o49SjOZa8TNsyRD7bwiHJkr3L-2nJKGhBCniuSh6XAP0cXkGin3KJTgQSPB3VF6ru3f09XnU2DgEWr8JZ2kq0yRR9dqAWCvq5EQOaj3ZOeLYJwPYuMPQr_4PU8ZGUu8j2RDk8l0f8d4/s1600-h/cl2.jpg"></a><div><em><span style="COLOR: rgb(51,153,153)">Desde vos aprendi a inundarme<br />con los sonidos del viento del sur,<br />en una tarde pintada con los<br />colores de tu rostro.<br /><br />Vos y ésta tierra,<br />en la que a veces me sení ajena.<br /><br />Esta tierra en vos,<br />compás de soles y bemoles,<br />de marimbas y guitarras,<br />y pinolillo fresco en las mañanas.<br /><br />Guiando mis dedos dibujastes<br />el croquis de esta patria en mi pecho.<br /><br />En tus ojos ví los sábalos reales<br />en su baile de madrugadas en el San Juan,<br />y el color de las noches en las posas,<br />-que nunca son negras completas.-<br /><br />Son notas fusas y semifusas,<br />abrazándome en este encuentro con<br />la soledad.<br /><br /><br />Abril 1999</span></em></div>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-29456662124284958552009-02-20T16:52:00.000-08:002009-02-27T11:28:30.129-08:00PROMESA<div align="right"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ert32_eoWqi_RReyTaec-rcXdqrA2iFTImLEbjZaND_dxMEiWA8uwllrJ2vRv_GmUFXN2O_JNaO0VzzX0KoXItgEUwHVfvceMY6sK3MA9j_y_3vY-dU3T2gRPgGF0T4DVId_mah-IOE/s1600-h/IMG_7138.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305093545588046130" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 240px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi2ert32_eoWqi_RReyTaec-rcXdqrA2iFTImLEbjZaND_dxMEiWA8uwllrJ2vRv_GmUFXN2O_JNaO0VzzX0KoXItgEUwHVfvceMY6sK3MA9j_y_3vY-dU3T2gRPgGF0T4DVId_mah-IOE/s320/IMG_7138.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;"><em> <span style="color:#660000;">Photo: Mecker Möller</span></em></span> </div><em style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,102,0)"><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">Padre,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">esparciré tus cenizas</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">en esta montaña ceremoniosa de árboles</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">que en días lejanos abrigaron a tus acentros;</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">para que vivas</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">entre las hojas de los helechos</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">y jueges con la neblina de la tardes.</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">Que tus cenizas viajen serenas</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">en el lomo de los caballos</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">en las noches repletas de estrellas.</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">Que bajen por la vertiente<br />fría y clara de los manantiales,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">y suban por las raicez de los maizales en flor.</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">Que besen a los cafetos en sus rojos labios</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">enamorándolos con el canto de la madrugada.</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)"><br />Y desde sus hojas,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">vuelen con la brisa </span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">a nadar en las aguas de la laguna,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">donde sacian su sed los pájaros viajeros.</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)"><br />Y que escondidas entre sus alas</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">vuelen hasta la cumbre del macizo</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">a escuchar el canto miskito</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">del viento del este,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">o vean la fumarola<br />de los longevos volcanes </span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">en el poniente.</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">Que se labren entre el lodo de los caminos,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">incrustrándose en las pisadas de los campesinos,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">para ir a recorrer senderos</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">donde se tejen amores escondidos.</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">Que tus cenizas dancen en el aire</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">con el polen del Dandeleon, </span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">y crezcan en la laderas de los cerros</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">con cada invierno.</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)"><br />Porque después de este largo exilio,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">Padre mío,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">...has vuelto!</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">para ser otra vez parte</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">de esta tierra amada</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)">donde nacistes.<br /><br />March 2007<br /><br /></span></span></em><em style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)"><span style="COLOR: rgb(255,102,0)"><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,102,0)"></span></span></em>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-54454775751832913802009-02-20T16:47:00.000-08:002009-02-27T11:56:12.166-08:00DESDE LA VIDA TE PREGUNTO.<div align="right"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigd0sj0oaKJkXZIn5eFthUF_x16KH4_mokRxfSrFEw8ETsT2ob306xPOxQ6QNQo-59Llag4oLsB74S_FFvqkcZX4BYb5ijTwWuLqYAiH31pnrz2N4xSO3-UnS_Z83bbp-l8AN4qjlprPU/s1600-h/cl4.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307561859015512818" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEigd0sj0oaKJkXZIn5eFthUF_x16KH4_mokRxfSrFEw8ETsT2ob306xPOxQ6QNQo-59Llag4oLsB74S_FFvqkcZX4BYb5ijTwWuLqYAiH31pnrz2N4xSO3-UnS_Z83bbp-l8AN4qjlprPU/s320/cl4.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="color:#660000;"> </span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;color:#660000;"><em><span style="color:#660000;">Photo:Claudio Lov</span><span style="color:#660000;">o</span></em></span></div><em><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:78%;color:#660000;"></span></em><em><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,153)"><div align="left"><br />Hombre<br />Qué más eras?<br />-aparte de esta carne hecha despojos.<br />Qué más sentías?<br />-ademas de estímulos percibidos por<br />esa masa blanquecina que se disolverá<br />bajo la tierra.<br /><br />Enfrento la inevitable realidad humana<br />en tu rostro frío y tu cuerpo inanimado.<br /><br />Golpeando en mi cerebro,<br />las dudas dejan exhausto el entendimiento.<br /><br />Y pregunto,<br />-Dónde se hacen entonces los sueños?<br />-En que rincón se guardaron los recuerdos?<br />-Sirvió de algo la ilusion?<br />-En qué rincón de tu fosa<br />depositarás eso que llamastes amor?<br /><br />Tras tus gélidas pupilas,<br />asoma una respuesta;<br />Fuistes<br />esencia,<br />escultura de sentimientos.<br />Artifice de sensaciones<br />que absorbiendo el mundo<br />intentó razgar el tiempo.<br /></span></em><br /><em><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,153)">Esfinge labrada con alientos<br />para los que de ti surguieron.<br /><br />Fuistes Hombre!<br /><br />Y por ello, </span></em><br /><em><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,153)">oceano, </span></em><br /><em><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,153)">horizonte </span></em><br /><em><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,153)">y cuento.<br /><br />1991.</span></em><br /><em><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,153)"></span></em><br /><em style="COLOR: rgb(0,51,0);font-family:times new roman;" ><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,153)">(Ante la presencia de un cuerpo inanimado en mi primera clase de Anatomia Humana)</span></em></div>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-10443159514003303892009-02-20T16:18:00.002-08:002009-02-27T11:36:20.181-08:00INSTANTE<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdj93urKuu0R5uavFJTGURmj0gNyDKNFvCUATY5ujn7fEi3FFRuDvZm3vxkVyFguxSjNlzus1nayA85uLqsiSUiE0dnLbr96bwkxjFYh8pbn6giytO-fS52geBuo9saACmS7aWqFBBISM/s1600-h/instnate.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307101916527484402" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 210px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 140px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdj93urKuu0R5uavFJTGURmj0gNyDKNFvCUATY5ujn7fEi3FFRuDvZm3vxkVyFguxSjNlzus1nayA85uLqsiSUiE0dnLbr96bwkxjFYh8pbn6giytO-fS52geBuo9saACmS7aWqFBBISM/s200/instnate.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"><br />Grises difusos,</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">consumación de la noche perdida,</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">tragada por el horizonte.</span><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Amenaza </span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">la hecatombe del océano;</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">emergiendo del furor del abismo,</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">se alzan titanes de sal </span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">desgarrando</span> <span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">el cielo </span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">de plata troquelada,</span><br /><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Carbón,</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">cenizas,</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">ya no hay nubes en fuego,</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">Solo el llanto frío </span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">de un ave negra,</span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">volando en el dominio </span><br /><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic">de este instante.</span><br /><br /><br />Septiembre 1991.<br /><br /><br /><div align="right"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;color:#660000;"><em>Photo: Claudio Lovo</em></span></div>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-54635657519072125362009-02-20T16:18:00.001-08:002009-02-27T11:48:19.247-08:00FUGA<div align="right"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIUfOzfP0xJS2fEIEo2r6czCz1enS6kKkQb2FJbWOcmi46jLojV2Yd8kncYy5j1L69peV1az-E91_5tMOl3-FVlN0i2ztQfeNazPh2k-MLIrWDYlgSlbvSKJ2-hx4YyFNvDxj4Efx8hqI/s1600-h/cl7.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307566012758468466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhIUfOzfP0xJS2fEIEo2r6czCz1enS6kKkQb2FJbWOcmi46jLojV2Yd8kncYy5j1L69peV1az-E91_5tMOl3-FVlN0i2ztQfeNazPh2k-MLIrWDYlgSlbvSKJ2-hx4YyFNvDxj4Efx8hqI/s320/cl7.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;color:#660000;"><em>Photo: Claudio Lovo</em></span></div><div align="left"><br /></div><div align="left"><em>Sonidos de voces familiares<br />que suenan a ecos rotos.<br /></em></div><div align="left"><em>Silencio mi voz,<br />buscando un refugio para<br />mis sentimientos.<br /><br />Huyo,<br />descubriendo que mi escondite<br />se hace pequeño </em></div><div align="left"><em>para el tamaño<br />de mis ideas.<br /><br />Aire fresco,<br />noche sin estrellas,<br />pertenezco al momento.<br />Quiero gritar!<br /><br />Ya no hay motivos<br />para llorar,<br />solo pensar,<br />y sentir como la noche<br />me toma en sus secretos<br />y se hace cómplice<br />de estos tormentos.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>1991</em></div>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-16965096019983614752009-02-20T16:17:00.001-08:002009-02-26T05:57:31.792-08:00LA ANDANTE<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiKi7HXAzSuCFdAm_2egFovoGWCAi603R5M8sklOnBLhyz259R3qrUZ7chesNb5qugq3qYy-lkCebci5Tw5X40dujO6CcI4yd5cXfx7bKyUQh2VlW2e1jAqPIgBiWl1AiJtbtvrIXsYBc/s1600-h/my+shoulders+for+you+to+kiss.JPG"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 151px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgiKi7HXAzSuCFdAm_2egFovoGWCAi603R5M8sklOnBLhyz259R3qrUZ7chesNb5qugq3qYy-lkCebci5Tw5X40dujO6CcI4yd5cXfx7bKyUQh2VlW2e1jAqPIgBiWl1AiJtbtvrIXsYBc/s200/my+shoulders+for+you+to+kiss.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305062214630487714" border="0" /></a><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">Los pies descalzos,</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">el alma en pena,</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 102, 0);">desnuda al alba,<br />teje sus trenzas<br />de amores rotos y<br />piel añeja.<br /><br />Su espalda,<br />labrada lleva,<br />soles rendidos<br />a mil mareas,<br /> -de carnales existencias.<br /><br />Y en su caderas,<br />se deslizan lunas<br />con gritos<br />de parturientas.<br /><br />En sus piernas<br />danzan los ruidos,<br />cantan los ecos,<br />amándose<br />con los secretos<br />tumultuosos de su pecho.<br /><br />Y a su paso,<br />los olores<br />se vuelven<br />mar,<br /> hierba<br /> y tierra húmeda<br />tras la tormenta.<br /><br /><br />Dejándo sólo<br />la estela triste<br />de sus eternas huellas.<br /><br /><br />El 2 de Septiembre 2005.<br />Un experimento en consonante.</span></em>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-50267925268128976612009-02-20T16:15:00.002-08:002009-02-21T08:14:36.935-08:00SINFONIA EN EL VIENTO<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_in0OoO8YENZfZbjnHn40hB9WygyD2Q42nnocRleg3Qi7J0hW1x37sN39r40u9FktAQedpAFxDE2XsWx7ncH9Q3wyRvpR8jOUoYJWzJMzVTYiRTiO4Mexn1PRqEBIO9VBCl2pml0ms7g/s1600-h/IMG_7143.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 150px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_in0OoO8YENZfZbjnHn40hB9WygyD2Q42nnocRleg3Qi7J0hW1x37sN39r40u9FktAQedpAFxDE2XsWx7ncH9Q3wyRvpR8jOUoYJWzJMzVTYiRTiO4Mexn1PRqEBIO9VBCl2pml0ms7g/s200/IMG_7143.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305284761032428210" border="0" /></a><br /><em><br />Vestida mi piel de tu recuerdo<br />se estremece de dolor la carne<br />al caer las hojas del otoño<br />sobre los poros del alma despierta.<br /><br />El viento orquesta su música lejana,<br />aliento triste es su melodía,<br />que razga el vestido<br />de mi piel<br />a su paso.<br /><br />Su sinfonía<br />sobre mi cuerpo,<br />despierta el alma,<br />que emergiendo<br />logra alcanzar una de las hojas<br />desprendridas,<br />muerta,<br />pero libre de la rama<br />que es ahora su pasado.</em><br /><em></em><br /><em>1992</em>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-25965957465772733322009-02-20T16:15:00.001-08:002009-02-27T13:44:07.324-08:00SORTILEGIO<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbXGrhje3k9_oUbRwY7tfdxT4CljEO1x6MZb1xCpkN_zgpbW7d9dtmB54v0iDEjfWtRFFlzacSiygEQVK3rGwYPpEeGMN331tup20k90dYj7x2wFZFe2mcCrBtRYfFjuySuDWjN21L8k/s1600-h/fir.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307572503149692658" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 214px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgbbXGrhje3k9_oUbRwY7tfdxT4CljEO1x6MZb1xCpkN_zgpbW7d9dtmB54v0iDEjfWtRFFlzacSiygEQVK3rGwYPpEeGMN331tup20k90dYj7x2wFZFe2mcCrBtRYfFjuySuDWjN21L8k/s320/fir.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;"></span></em><br /><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;">Se desprende el negro </span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;">del firmamento,<br />es llanto incesante<br />violentamente triste.<br /><br />Su frialdad </span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;">cala en la ausencia,<br />penetra en la carne,<br />y me recorre</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;">triturando los huesos,<br />arrancándome ese grito </span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;">desesperado...<br /></span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;">Solo.<br /><br />Un sentimiento </span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;">se estremece ante la muerte,<br />ante la intangible separación</span></em><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;">de </span></em><em><span style="color:#660000;">mi mundo y tu dimensión.</span></em><br /><br /><br /><em><span style="color:#660000;">1993.</span></em><br /><br /><div align="right"><em><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;color:#cc0000;">Photo: Claudio Lovo</span></em></div>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-80246878283818005602009-02-20T16:13:00.002-08:002009-02-23T09:26:40.356-08:00REFUGIO<em></em><br /><em>Esta tarde he visto una mujer<br />cargando en su rostro la vejez,<br />sus brazos hinsurtos blandiendo<br />el metal de su machete<br />con que corta la alta hierba creciendo<br />frente a su humilde casa,<br />-su vida.<br /><br />Volteo y veo mi cuerpo<br />Y el tuyo,<br />los músculos frescos,<br />los rostro y el brillo de nuestros cabellos,<br />y con miedo me abrazo en un frío<br />presentimiento.<br /><br />...La misma suerte...<br />-y enventualmente la muerte!<br /><br />Me aterro,<br />me empequeñezco<br />y corro a buscar un refuguio<br />donde no me encuentre el destino.<br /><br />Huyo de ese día en que no llegue a la noche,<br />cuando una morada de madera<br />enmudezca el último trazo de un<br />poema que no logró escribir mi mano.<br /><br />Ese momento en que la oscuridad<br />reirá ante el crepitar de mis ojos<br />sedientos de un rayo más de luz,<br /><br />Y voy corriendo.<br /><br />De súbito,<br />las campanas de la catedral,<br />me anuncian que transcurrió una hora más,<br />Y este ciclo sigue su curso en la faz terrestre.<br /><br />Junio 1994.</em>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-1918934193158734412009-02-20T16:13:00.001-08:002009-02-23T09:31:49.666-08:00REINVENTANDO<em><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)"><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">En esta mañana de cielos platinados,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">He inventado una vez más tu manos</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">recorriendo los surcos sensibles,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">caminos conocidos</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">y colinas de mi pecho,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">- Dibujando flores con mi areolas erectas-.</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">He re-inventado tus labios</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">posando jugosos sobre los míos,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">viajando desde mi cuello hasta el pozo</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">de mis placeres.</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">He resucitado tu olor para penetrarlo</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">en los más recondito de mis sensaciones…</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">He enclavado tu piel a mi ombligo,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">y aferrado tus caderas a las mias </span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">con un lazo azul invisible,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">palpable solo por las llamas </span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">de mis recuerdos.</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">Y sonrío al vibrar mis fibras </span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">con el placer de ser mujer</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">y vos mi ilusion viva</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">que me hace re-invertarme otra mil vez…</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(204,51,204)">desde los anhelos intangibles del tiempo.</span><br /><br /><br /><br />Noviembre 1999.</span></em>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-72690937431760141542009-02-20T16:11:00.000-08:002009-02-27T12:01:00.689-08:00AQUELLA FIGURA<div align="right"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIl_8LHyZqcr35j4s2iWUTDVf9W6NhJKFTXL29M7AyYOg0nGdFiILyNGdm_Mf-lVPEyNxHgZYrobxU8B7aEhoKW4Iv8VeGYH_EY14nwVLV9hbftNuXPfvpWJ595ZPnyMnuxFNz9RXY-k/s1600-h/cl6.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307569482389986322" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjFIl_8LHyZqcr35j4s2iWUTDVf9W6NhJKFTXL29M7AyYOg0nGdFiILyNGdm_Mf-lVPEyNxHgZYrobxU8B7aEhoKW4Iv8VeGYH_EY14nwVLV9hbftNuXPfvpWJ595ZPnyMnuxFNz9RXY-k/s320/cl6.jpg" border="0" /></a> <em><span style="color:#660000;"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;">Photo: Claudio Lovo</span><br /></span></em><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyeZJ6gb07uk2YSRyfQfO8h6yhuqwe8Cd2LbZsJ9tlSMT0g3EKFpiTCoJaAdZ2RSrmjBzYo0yGlcvYT87-pebos9d4uiF0S-LjsoEY8Wjb3nXkAVDxXdPtk7FkR1wMUGi5Wpumcw6DMMc/s1600-h/cl6.jpg"></a><br /><br /><br /><em><div align="left"><br />Ves aquella figura que parece humana?<br />De fría piel fucionada al asfalto.<br /></em><br /><em>Si observas su rostro de tierra<br />erosionado por el tiempo,<br />encontrarás su mirada como piedras<br />grises que golpean la conciencia.<br /><br />Sentado en la banqueta,<br />le cae la tarde sobre los hombros.<br /><br />No hay sonrisas, no hay palabras,<br />hace tiempo que no habla.<br /><br />Nadie recuerda su nombre,<br />sólo los arboles del parque<br />que de antaño le conocen.<br /></em><br /><em>Está solo.<br /><br />Quién se acerca más de lo necesario<br />para darle una moneda?<br /><br />En silencio espera que el día muera,<br />sintiendo la luz robada<br />por las tinieblas,<br />quizás desea en este ocaso,<br />irse con ella.<br /><br />Leon, 1991<br /></div></em></div>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-10724896052454185182009-02-20T16:10:00.001-08:002009-02-23T09:38:24.278-08:00LETARGO<span style="color:#3333ff;"><em></em></span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"><em>Barro,<br />cielos grises y azules,<br />Amor que mezcla </em></span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"><em>la tierra con la lluvia<br />…Barro, escultura somos.<br /><br />Pezones tiritando,<br />Navegar de piernas </em></span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"><em>en este océano del placer,<br />olor de cuerpos,<br />Llamas rojas, </em></span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"><em>amarillas </em></span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"><em>y naranjas sobre el pubis...<br /></em></span><br /><span style="color:#3333ff;"><em> !Ay! ...Escultura fuimos.<br /><br />Sólo el aliento queda…<br />empañando los recuerdos añejos,<br />de avalanchas en el centro de mi cuerpo.<br /><br />Ven,<br />Estreméceme de este letargo!<br /><br /></em><br />Feb 8, 1998.</span>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-53458142995273870722009-02-20T16:09:00.001-08:002009-02-27T11:52:44.984-08:00DAMA DEL ADIOS<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5QJ3cIPLG0ip_vun_xF3miXR88rVmPA8abPYdti45sFALvsiZRWkNA6OuXCvATqXWhfr_aIY5TH8URvutD9uYA-BEf2HRqcAOB95_uqKa_WCyLuI3SA1uBmNErJlqLTRnRGaacM6hZtg/s1600-h/air.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307102156664024994" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; WIDTH: 200px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 134px" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg5QJ3cIPLG0ip_vun_xF3miXR88rVmPA8abPYdti45sFALvsiZRWkNA6OuXCvATqXWhfr_aIY5TH8URvutD9uYA-BEf2HRqcAOB95_uqKa_WCyLuI3SA1uBmNErJlqLTRnRGaacM6hZtg/s200/air.jpg" border="0" /></a><br /><em>La muerte,<br />Siempre sigilosa se viene<br />a susurrarme al oído,<br />-que en los momentos de introspección-<br />ella anda cerca.<br /></em><br /><em>La siento a veces respirando<br />el aire alrededor<br />de mis hombros,<br />Y comprendo la brevedad </em><br /><em>de este tiempo.<br /><br />Cuánta gente ha pasado y vuelto!<br />Este “hoy” es mi amuleto.<br /><br />Y el reloj sigue… sigue<br /><br />Ella juguetea con mis cabellos,<br />se recuesta en mi espalda.<br /></em><br /><em>Traviesa dice</em><br /><em> que un día me iré,<br />que me aprise a cumplir los sueños </em><br /><em>y hacer grande la vida,<br />por que ella un día volverá<br />para quedarse<br />en mi tiempo.<br /><br /><br />Feb 1998.</em><br /><em></em><br /><div align="right"><em><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;color:#660000;">Photo: Claudio Lovo</span></em></div>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-4295155960786298682009-02-20T16:07:00.000-08:002009-02-20T16:08:34.439-08:00MI PRECIPICIO<em><span style="color:#000099;"><br />Es cuando das la vuelta<br />y mi voz resuena en tus espalda.<br /><br />El aire húmedo de la noche<br />se traga las lágrimas<br />exhaladas por mis sienes,<br />escondiendo el oscuro y triste<br />silencio de mis ojos.<br /><br />El áspero césped bebe las grietas<br />de mis pies persiguiendo una respuesta<br />refugiada en las entrañas de tu pecho<br /><br /><br />Y desde la orilla de este precipicio<br />caen dolientes los fragmentos<br />de nuestra promesa,<br />ensangrentados,<br />arrancándome lentamente<br />la piel bajo las uñas.<br /></span></em><br /><br />Mayo 2008Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-71377111950626677162009-02-20T16:04:00.000-08:002009-02-27T11:39:35.370-08:00FLORA PARA TU FAUNA<div style="TEXT-ALIGN: right"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3JENsy1avC4CEzqcM-ZF61PnwyMRzcsn_S42TkNZVi1cG7u-tDWA8nLn8IlVb5SbI26mRq3BmUdHnuXVeKpHXanDCVu7049VduXJ9XRWlgWTTzBjVoIarZVDqkCo7wEOTKPy7bauSEA/s1600-h/burfk.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5307103345906537522" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: pointer; HEIGHT: 214px; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3JENsy1avC4CEzqcM-ZF61PnwyMRzcsn_S42TkNZVi1cG7u-tDWA8nLn8IlVb5SbI26mRq3BmUdHnuXVeKpHXanDCVu7049VduXJ9XRWlgWTTzBjVoIarZVDqkCo7wEOTKPy7bauSEA/s320/burfk.jpg" border="0" /><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="FONT-STYLE: italic;font-family:verdana;color:#660000;" >Photo: Claudio Lovo</span></span></a><span style="font-size:78%;color:#660000;"><br /></span></div><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">Mi cabello</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">es grande</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">y lleno de secretos.</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">Si te acercas,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">te prometo esconder</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">uno nuestro.</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">Mis caderas</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">redondas tinajas de barro rojo,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">cántaros de agua fresca</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">que calmarán el fuego de tu boca</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">Mis senos,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">papayas jugosas en tu lengua,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">pezones petalos en flor,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">que nutrirán la braza</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">entre tus piernas.</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">Mis glúteos,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">hermosas sandillas dulces</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">rítmicas danzarán </span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">al son de tus gemidos</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">Mis labios,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">mangos en álmibar</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">que untanrán su nectar</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">sobre tu pubis</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">Mis brazos,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">collar de sacuanjoches</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">adronarán los crespos de tu pecho.</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">Mis hombros anchos</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">Ramas de naranjos al caer el sol,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">donde reposarás tu espalda cansada</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">La línea alba de mi vientre</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">será tu horizonte</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">cuando te entregues súbdito</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">a los misterios de mi ombligo.</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">Vení bailemos</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">aventurosos en esta selva</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">inhóspita de encuentros</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">Que te espera una fiesta</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">de cuerpos descalzos</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">y sudores aromáticos</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">de guayabas maduras,</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">nancites</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">y jocotes dulces.</span><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">De uñas enclavadas en la tierra</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">mientras exhalas en rendición</span><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">a la carne.</span><br /><br /><br /><span style="COLOR: rgb(0,0,102); FONT-STYLE: italic">Febrero 2007.</span>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-30045105813388738122009-02-20T15:48:00.000-08:002009-02-27T20:49:58.502-08:00English - NUMBNESS<em><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);"><strong><br />NUMBNESS</strong></span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">How could one transform love<br />into numbness?</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">I can tell you how.</span></em><br /><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">Each second hurts when you must</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">throw away the memories<br />treasured in the skin,</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">delete kisses from the lips,</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">and mutilate the soft touch of a hand.</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">It stings your eyes </span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">when you must turn your back</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">to words that once<br />were said </span></em><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">and believed</span></em>,<em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"><br />till you find your chest<br />screaming </span></em><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">for dullness!</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">You look outside your window knowing</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">that the morning will not bring the voice</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">that nurtured your dreams,</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">while you become deaf to harmonies.</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">You must </span></em><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">embrace yourself hard,</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">and let time go, </span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">allowing the numbness to seat...</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">...take place in your heart</span></em>.<br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"></span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">While you patiently wait </span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">that it will go away one day, </span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">like the shattered hopes</span></em><br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);">that are still resting in your soul.</span></em><br /><br /><br />2009<br /><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 51, 153);"></span></em>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-67780831194171917412009-02-20T15:19:00.000-08:002009-02-27T20:45:17.618-08:00English- RAIN ON ME<div align="right"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7UIWuKfeSWMveK8i7SG4zR40t_18GfWCwNgEZFTQUHA2XmyWWPMOM07TK8iCGHxqWYhxnhcOztvg4hshuvbkXKXopqweSmy5lKonA4kwn_i4eWW35Wc4aSm8ssPNWS80ICfa_NDaSUY/s1600-h/b&wbeach.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305028367904585730" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 240px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg7UIWuKfeSWMveK8i7SG4zR40t_18GfWCwNgEZFTQUHA2XmyWWPMOM07TK8iCGHxqWYhxnhcOztvg4hshuvbkXKXopqweSmy5lKonA4kwn_i4eWW35Wc4aSm8ssPNWS80ICfa_NDaSUY/s320/b&wbeach.jpg" border="0" /></a> <span style=";font-family:verdana;font-size:78%;" ><em><span style="color: rgb(102, 0, 0);">Photo: Dave Guiney</span><br /></em></span></div><div align="left"><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">I woke up this morning<br />listening to the rain<br />and breathing the cold air<br />coming through my window,<br />and as I saw the rain washing<br />the dirt on the leaves...<br />it also washed my sadness away.<br /><br />Life is there<br />with arms wide open for me.<br />I am ready to take<br />whatever is in the horizon,<br />pain or happiness,<br />I'll take it!<br /><br />I have choosen to live again<br />and throw my fears away,<br />living without regrets.<br /><br />I'll walk unknown roads<br />to experience new sunrises<br />where I can discover<br />one more time<br />who I am.<br /><br />Where I can build<br />my own promises<br />and make them come true.<br /><br />I will let people come<br />and go from my life,<br />while keeping the dear ones<br />-who really matter-,<br />in a safe place in my heart.<br /><br />I don't know yet what is out there,<br />but I know who I am<br />and the strong core of my soul.<br /><br />if I fall<br />and my knees get hurt,<br />I will get up;<br />heal them </span></em><em><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);">and continue<br />like I said,<br />with no regrets,<br />even if the price<br />is high to pay.</span><br /></em><br />2009<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhP2rFRUyL8tf0s5WssI-lZ8sAw1dqi0MvSmDqD6FdW1Rnzh9OkDSYw2RhOT8tAfvPei05AWWwkez-mn4xdFyEE9-0HuEca6paXc1RCiEg5hQLAzR7KBIhC4J33d1yGa-66ydMfiQ4X508/s1600-h/irishbeach.jpg"></a></div>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-662096273339195507.post-11014449945661821422009-02-20T15:16:00.000-08:002009-02-26T05:55:17.453-08:00MUERTE DE UNA MUSA<div style="text-align: right;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6kI7JXLHWPBY2I7m_bhzSykBK-tnPLBtPItETD85njd3qtZRlVqzZEv3znKYSfffr8TGDA3udpxxvvL3ts_R4dFzweNJQP-xMA4qgV4PiQhO7uU1ODx7kQC5Ziu7b3aBe_Fqu5gm5DeA/s1600-h/musa.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5305027060058274082" style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; width: 320px; height: 214px; text-align: center;" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi6kI7JXLHWPBY2I7m_bhzSykBK-tnPLBtPItETD85njd3qtZRlVqzZEv3znKYSfffr8TGDA3udpxxvvL3ts_R4dFzweNJQP-xMA4qgV4PiQhO7uU1ODx7kQC5Ziu7b3aBe_Fqu5gm5DeA/s320/musa.jpg" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em></em></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjE3JENsy1avC4CEzqcM-ZF61PnwyMRzcsn_S42TkNZVi1cG7u-tDWA8nLn8IlVb5SbI26mRq3BmUdHnuXVeKpHXanDCVu7049VduXJ9XRWlgWTTzBjVoIarZVDqkCo7wEOTKPy7bauSEA/s1600-h/burfk.jpg"><span style="font-size:78%;"><span style="font-style: italic; font-family: verdana;">Photo: Claudio Lovo</span></span></a><br /></div><span style="font-size:78%;"> </span><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>Al entrar la madrugada</em></span> <div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>ruedan en silencio </em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>las lágrimas de la musa<br /></em></span></div><br /><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>Sus manos palpan el hueco</em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>que le ha dejado entre sus pechos</em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>aquel último poema </em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>cuando sus cabellos</em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>eran aún fuego</em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>quemando el viento.<br /></em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em></em></span></div><br /><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>Se le desangra el azul...</em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>remojándole los pies entumecidos,</em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>anclados en la arcilla de su soledad.</em></span></div><div><br /><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>La musa sedienta</em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>de falos, </em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>de labios, </em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>de olores.</em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em></em></span></div><br /><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>Encerrada<br />en el ataud de sus memorias</em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>donde sus gritos callan<br />el dolor de su carne<br /><br />Y en donde su alma<br />se evapora en pena</em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>por la ausencia de palabras<br />hechas música,</em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>y música transformada<br />en galope de ilusiones.<br /></em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em></em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em><br />La musa</em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>muere en vida, </em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em>Lentamente.<br /><br />Sola. </em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em></em></span></div><div><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"><em><br />Sin ser amada.<br /><br /></em></span></div><div><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);"></span></em> </div><div><em><span style="color: rgb(0, 0, 102);">December 2008.</span></em></div></div>Mecker Geraldine Möllerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/00045501771242405115noreply@blogger.com0